Right before they departed, Alex hugged his father tightly.
A flicker of reluctance crossed Count John's eyes. He quietly urged Alex to be sure to reach Rovar safely, to preserve a chance of survival for their clan.
Alex nodded, his eyes filled with tears. John looked at his nervous younger son, opened his mouth as if to speak, but said nothing. He simply patted his shoulder, ruffled his hair, and cupped his cheeks, then nodded with a smile.
The convoy departed, while Count John remained behind in Odoche to face the approaching Henry.
Mace followed the convoy closely, watching as Odoche grew smaller and smaller before vanishing on the horizon.
He looked at the heavy carriages, piled high with gold, silver, jewels, exquisite porcelain, and magnificent fabrics. These were the family's transportable treasures, not the military supplies needed for a battlefield.
In that moment, he knew his mission wasn't to fight, but to retreat. Or rather, to flee!
